Author: rockstarpeach
Pairing: Mostly Sam/Dean, some Sam/OC’s, Dean/OC’s,
Rating: Adult (R-NC-17)
Summary: Because of the way the boys are raised, they find it impossible to develop significant attachments to anybody but each other. A 15 year old Sam deals with that by fixating on his brother in a decidedly un-brotherly way, and because he half blames Dean for their situation, he thinks Dean owes him. Dean disagrees. Story follows the boys through towns and schools and boyfriends and girlfriends, and lots of nummy mixed up incestuous feelings and actions.

There were moans now, heavy breaths, a feminine giggle. Sam wondered if this should be turning him on. It wasn’t, not really, it was just interesting, gave him a perverse sort of thrill, even as it made him feel a little bit creepy, being so voyeuristic. But he wasn’t looking, he was still around the corner from the couple, whoever they were, and it wasn’t really his fault they were loud enough for him to overhear.

As long as he wasn’t watching them, he wasn’t a giant pervert.

There was the sound of a zipper, absurdly loud in the otherwise quiet night, some more mumbling, a sharp intake of breath… and then a male voice. A familiar voice. Dean’s voice, low and desperate, words coming out gravely and nearly incoherent.

“Fuck, yeah, baby,” Sam heard him pant. “That’s it. Just like that.”

And then Sam couldn’t not watch anymore.

He moved against the wall, keeping his body close to the red brick as he leaned around the corner, thankful for the tree that cast a shadow where he was standing, so he wouldn’t be easily visible, even if Dean had had his eyes open, and the girl on her knees in front of him hadn’t had a face-full of something else.

He watched for a minute, two. Watched Dean’s hands tangle in the girl’s hair, twitch and clench, wanting to pull her closer, to slam harder into her, but not doing it, and his restraint, his successful attempt at gentleness, bothered Sam more than seeing Dean with someone in the first place.

Before he even realised it, his hand was covering his dick, pressing and squeezing through his jeans, and his hips were thrusting forward into the touch. Shit. Well, that just figured. He hadn’t been turned on by this until he knew it was Dean he was listening to, watching, and tears pricked his eyes when the girl moaned enthusiastically, and Dean’s head lolled back and his mouth opened on blissful gasp.

Sam was jealous. He didn’t want to be, and he didn’t want to hate Dean for this, but he was and he did. He’d never had that, what Dean had right now. He’d never been with anyone like that, never touched, or had anyone touch him, and sure he was still young, but he was knew for a fact that Dean had had sex when he was his age.

It wasn’t fair that Dean got to have this, that he could be so casual about it, take his pleasure where he could, and screw the fact that he wouldn’t be around for long, and Sam couldn’t. It wasn’t fair that Dean got to enjoy this while Sam was alone. And there was a part of him, a part he’d known about for years, but had only just recently been able to recognise for what it was, that thought it wasn’t fair that this girl got to be with Dean like that, and he didn’t.

“Harder, baby. Faster,” Dean gasped, and Sam’s eyes were drawn from Dean’s hips, pushing now slightly into the girl’s mouth, up to his face, eyes still closed, head thrown back, moving slowly from side to side. He’d never seen Dean like this before, getting off, never seen what he looked like when he was close to coming, but Sam knew he was.

He’d heard him enough times, late at night when he thought Sam was sleeping, and dad was out, and Dean didn’t have a date. Heard him in the bathroom, or under the covers, trying to be quiet but unable to stifle his breathy moans completely.

And it pissed Sam the hell off that he was just as hard now as he was all those other times, watching some chick suck Dean’s cock, the cock that Sam refused, most days, to admit that he wanted suck. And he was calling her baby. Probably because the jerk couldn’t remember her name.

It was fucked up, he knew that, to want his brother like this, and he knew he shouldn’t. He tried not to, and most of the time it was easy, because there was a lot about Dean that he really didn’t like, and he really did blame him for a lot of shit. True, it was their father who started them hunting, it was him who kept them going, but Dean loved it. If Dean had only been on his side, only told dad that this wasn’t a life for two kids who hadn’t been given a choice, and it was too late for him, but maybe Sam could still turn out half normal, maybe things could have been different.

This story is my Wincest Head!Canon now. I recommend everyone read this.

Pairings: None. Dean, Cas, mentions of Sam. Gen.
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 37,726
Warnings: General spoilers through Season 5. Show-levels of violence, angst, swearing. Human!Cas (do I even need to warn for that?).
Summary: Castiel awakens in the middle of a smoking crater, stranded and very much human. According to the people who have discovered him, it’s six months to the day after Michael and Lucifer faced off on the field of battle outside of Detroit, and Castiel isn’t the only one to have returned. When, at his insistence, they take him to this other person, he finds a child –a little boy– and realizes that, contrary to all his expectations, he has been reunited with Dean Winchester.

They pick their way across the rubble, the rough edges digging into the soles of Cas’ feet ―just enough to hurt, but not enough to pierce the skin. He has to scrabble over some of it using both hands and feet, like a cat or a monkey. Those who came armed have slung their rifles and shotguns over their shoulders in order to free their hands. They sort through what’s left of the structure, wooden beams jutting out like broken ribs against the ash-white sky, the ground a mess of broken plaster and drywall and splintered furniture. Castiel carefully avoids the remains of a shattered mirror, finds himself staring down at the eviscerated form of a plush rabbit. There must have been children here, once. He deliberately turns his gaze aside when he catches sight of a crib lying broken and crushed beneath a section of drywall. 

They are none of them entirely sure what they’re searching for, but they keep going doggedly, sifting through the rubble, until a cry goes up:

“I’ve found something!”

It’s Libby, standing bent over at the far end of the house. He scrambles over to her, fuelled by a sense of urgency he can’t quite explain, puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Down there. I’m pretty sure I heard something. Someone,” she amends. “But they won’t answer when I call.” She turns wide, frightened eyes on him. “I don’t want to go in there.”

“It’s all right. I think I should go.”

The house had a cellar, once. It’s all but collapsed in on itself now, nothing but a hole in the floor leading to a narrow, damp tunnel. Castiel kneels, listening, hears nothing for a moment. Then, almost too faint to hear, a tiny scuffling sound, and an all-too-human sniffle. He eases himself down, wincing and hissing in pain as his luck finally runs out and he feels something sharp slice into the side of his foot, just below the ankle. He ignores the flare of pain once he determines that the injury is superficial. The cellar has mostly collapsed in on itself except for where he’s standing, and he drops to his hands and knees, forced to crawl in order to move forward in the rest of the cramped space. He wishes he had a light of some kind, but his eyes adjust to the dim light as he stares. When he was still an angel, he would have known exactly what was there. Now, though, he has to make do with perception made dull by the intermediary of human senses. He makes out a small shape in the shadows, huddled up against the far wall, bare arms and legs pale in the dark. A child. He thinks of the crib upstairs, makes his voice gentle when the small form flinches away at his approach.

“Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you. Are you hurt?”

There’s no answer, but he hears another soft sniffle, a hiccup of barely-contained tears. The child’s head is buried in his arms ―Castiel is reasonably sure it’s a boy. He creeps forward again, keeping his gestures slow, remembering how Sam Winchester used to deal with frightened children.

“I am going to put my hand out,” he says softly. “I would very much like it if you were to take it and come out with me. It’s not safe for you in here.”

There’s still no answer, and if he had more room to move he would be tempted to simply scoop the child in his arms and carry him out. As it is, though, he is going to have to coax him out, convince him to follow.

“My name is Cas.” He remembers Sam introducing himself to the tiniest of children very seriously, as though they were the most important people in the world. They never failed to respond, tucking tiny hands into his much larger ones and looking up at him with nothing but trust. Castiel thinks he may not be able to hold himself up to those standards, but he has to try. “What’s your name? Will you tell me?”

The child jerks, raising his head and squinting at him from under an unruly mop of messy, sandy-brown hair. Castiel’s breath catches in his throat as hazel eyes lock with his, and a soul he’d recognize anywhere stares back at him.

“Dean?”

Author: electrolitestar
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own SPN, it owns me.
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel. Sam. Bobby.
Word Count: 3350
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for 6.19. Language. Descriptions of pain, blood, wounds.
Summary: When Castiel falls due to his sins, Dean finds him on a deserted highway in Utah. But forgiveness isn’t something Dean is willing to give just yet.

Not one car goes by. You’ve been sitting here for hours and not one car. 

You just stare at him. You can tell he’s suffering. The pain he is in right now is probably unbearable. He won’t open his eyes. And you won’t move him. You could lie him down in the back of the Impala, take him back to Bobby’s. 

Could being an option.

Won’t being the reality.

You don’t clean the wounds on his face. You check his pulse from time to time. 

Its slow but its there.

The more you watch him, inspect him, pick apart parts of him you’d never really looked at in the 3 years you’ve known him, you realize something in a split moment; just a wrinkle in the hours and minutes and seconds and milliseconds you’d been sitting there in the silence of nothingness. 

You aren’t looking at Castiel. 

You’re just looking at a man who looks like he got beaten by a gang of east LA drug lords. 

The headlights begin to flicker and you realize you’re going to have to shut the car off if you’re gonna be able to start the car later. You shift up onto your knees and a blip of a shadow catches your eye. You reach out hesitantly and gently pull his shoulder toward you. 

Bile rises in your throat and you cover your hand over your mouth to keep everything you haven’t eaten in the past 24 hours down. 

If the cuts, bruises, stab wounds, and what looks like road burn wasn’t enough, on his shoulder blades, each one matching perfectly, were deep gouges still spurting blood everywhere. And bones. Carving their way out of the wounds. You lean closer and realize as vomit finally finds a home inside your mouth that those protruding things weren’t bones. Exactly.

But they held something together. Something Castiel no longer had.

His wings.

Author: jadejuturna 
Rating: PG-13 / NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: AU Dean/Castiel in which they are dancers
Word Count: 6,681
Summary: After the car crash that nearly left him crippled, Dean needs more than a dance class to help him strengthen up his legs again. Thankfully, the best in the class is willing to spend some one on one time with him.

“I swear, my life is such a goddamn parody,” Dean mumbled to himself, scratching behind his ear idly.

“What exactly would compel you to say that?”

Dean nearly gave himself whiplash, the way he turned around to meet Castiel’s eye. The bastard was smiling, oh so smugly in response.

“Jesus Christ, Cas, you move like a fuckin’ ninja,” Dean gasped, shaking his shoulders back and turning back to the skyline. Castiel closed the space between them to stand at his side, staring in the same direction as Dean. “I’m sorry I startled you. I figured I should come and talk to you…in case there was anything you wanted to share?”

In his peripherals, Dean could see Castiel’s head turn to look at him. Dean shifted his eyes warily before mimicking the gesture. “…what could I possibly want to share?” he asked, his eyes squinting a bit in confusion.

“Look, it’s no secret that Rigo rides your ass harder than the angry fist of God.” Dean actually snorted with laughter, causing Castiel to smirk, all smug again. “And I can see it’s discouraging for you. I see you get angry with yourself when he calls you out.” Dean’s smile morphed into more of a grimace. “You know if you need help, all you have to do is ask.”

Dean thought on Castiel’s words for a few seconds. He’d be damned if Cas wasn’t offering to help him out, which was the gist he got. “…nah, Cas…I don’t want to burden anyone with having to teach me the shit all over again. I’ll get it eventually.”

Castiel made a soft clicking noise of disapproval, his arms snaking across the white v-neck covering his chest as he tilted his head and continued to stare at Dean with an “I know better” expression. Dean couldn’t help but grin at how fucking cheeky Castiel was acting. He was always bringing some sort of humor the their practices with his quips and such, but Dean had never really experienced it firsthand. He had to admit, it was hard to fight it and Dean felt he had no choice but to back down and accept that Cas was right. He definitely needed extra help.

“Fine, fine, alright. I’ll ask someone for their assistance,” Dean rolled his eyes. “If it makes you happy.”

“You’re going to ask just anyone or…?” Cas trailed off, positively radiating the smug vibe now.

“Well not just anyone, of course,” Dean answered, smirking yet again. “Obviously I’d ask the best one in our group.”

At that moment, Rigoberto crashed through the balcony door, hands on his hips and glaring daggers at Dean and Cas. “I am terribly sorry to interrupt this intimate meeting, muchachos, but practice was back on 3 minutes ago. INSIDE!” 

Dean scoffed, resenting the “intimate meeting” comment. Leave it to a sassy, gay Guatemalan dance instructor to make a situation awkward.

It was Castiel who broke the silence. “So, I’ll see you here tomorrow then. Same time we usually practice. Rigo gave me a copy of the keys, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. No Guatemalan men hollering at you, and no one else to judge you if you make a mistake…no pressure.”

And as he sauntered over to the door, he turned and so help me God he winked at me, Dean thought, trying not to let his mouth hang agape. As if that gesture wasn’t startling enough, Dean felt heat uncharacteristic to the weather around him tinge at his cheeks when he finally snapped out of his trance and walked back inside.

Author: rageprufrock
Characters: Dean/Cas, Sam/Ruby, Bobby/Ellen, and Jo
Rating: R
Warning:  Talk of Drug Use and mentions of child abuse.
Summary:Dean’s so sick of explaining to people why he hates Ruby, and why he hates that Sam is marrying fucking Ruby, and how betrayed he feels about Sam and Ruby, so he says: “My little brother’s getting married; I hate weddings.” 

“You’re not fooling anybody!  There’s an extra car in the — Jesus mother of fuck.”

Dean opens his eyes and sees nothing at first, just a blur, and then he blinks twice and sees the divot of Cas’s collarbone, the curve of his shoulder.  Everything else starts filtering in in pieces: the weight of Castiel’s arm across his side, their legs tangled together, how — oh 

Jesus mother of fuck indeed, Dean thinks, half-awake — Cas had tucked Dean’s head under his chin, fingers carded loosely through Dean’s hair.

And when Dean tilts his head up a little, pulls away, he sees Cas is now wide-awake, too, blue eyes huge with that shocked-conscious look.  Dean’s seen it more than a few times before, when Cas bolts out of on-call rooms, seizing up charts and still toeing on Crocs.

“What’s happening?” Cas rasps, and Dean tells him, “Relax,” before pushing himself up and glaring over Cas’s t-shirt covered shoulder and saying, “Jo — I swear to God.”

But she only keeps making that Jesus mother of fuck face at him, because Dean guesses it’s one thing to participate in the family sport of calling Dean a manwhore and another to see Dean in medias something Dean’s not calling a cuddle.  The worst part is no sex was even involved.  Jesus Christ, Dean thinks with detached horror, last night, he might have cried.  In front of another person.

“Jo,” Dean growls again, and it seems to knock her out of it enough for her to turn bright red, spin around in the doorway and call over her shoulder:

“Breakfast is ready — you guys better be down in five!”

Cas is still blinking rapidly at him, trying to wake up, when Dean catches his eyes again.

“I still don’t know what’s happening,” Cas says, hoarse with sleep, and it’s fucking adorable: Cas’s hair sticking up at 45 degree angles and pillow creases on his face, the way he hasn’t moved at all, curled up like a harbor for Dean.

Dean can’t resist reaching one hand up, and it feels hot against the cooler air of the room, running it over Cas’s bangs, pushing them out of his face as he says, “That was our wake-up call.”  He checks his watch: eight a.m., those motherfuckers.  “Breakfast.”

Cas gives him a look of real, actual despair.  “I never eat breakfast.”  The unspoken follow-up to this is: I would rather sleep, like, really a lot.

“And I would rather hide from my family,” Dean mutters.

Cas sighs sadly, pushing his face into the pillow.  “If we don’t go downstairs, is she going to come back upstairs and yell some more?”

Castiel hates yelling.  It’s one of the most baffling things about him, how he got through 12 years of primary school and college and fucking med school and hates yelling; Dean grew up in a family of yellers and then he went and trained to be an EMT and because that wasn’t screamy enough, he got into social work.

“Probably,” Dean admits, and then says, “There’ll be coffee.”

“I do love coffee,” Cas agrees glumly.

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, various Sam pairings
Rating: R
Word Count: 24,500+
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: None
Summary: When Dean touches a strange mirror, he’s whisked away to one alternate reality after another and it doesn’t take him long to realize the universe is trying to tell him something.

“Please be careful,” a voice says from outside on the front porch.

The voice both relaxes and upsets Dean because it’s good to know Cas is alive, but why the hell did he leave Dean when he must have heard him gasping in pain on the floor above? Dean’s hand settles on the knob and he starts to turn it, but then another voice answers Cas and it shocks Dean to stillness.

“I’m always careful, Cas.”

It’s a woman’s voice, dark and smoky and it makes Dean think of shadows in a bar. He doesn’t recognize it, but Castiel obviously does because he sighs and speaks again.

“That is a lie,” Castiel says sternly. “You’re reckless. The job of watching over you requires far too much effort.”

Watching over her? Since when did Cas get new humans to watch over?

“Oh yeah, well, I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” she says with a smile Dean can hear.

Something dark and unpleasant curls in Dean’s chest. Dean never thought he knew every detail of Castiel’s existence, but he did think he knew everything Castiel did on Earth and that includes overly intimate relationships with women he doesn’t know. Dean doesn’t like her innuendo. Not one bit.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Castiel says, but now he sounds amused.

“Hey, you picked me, you’re stuck with me. Good and bad,” she says and they are close enough now that Dean can hear the unmistakable sounds of kissing. The unpleasant feeling in Dean’s chest explodes into a kind of blind rage Dean doesn’t even understand and that’s enough. He rips open the door and stares at Castiel.

“What the fuck, dude?”

Castiel’s eyes widen only slightly and he sways backwards, but for him, that’s nearly an overreaction. The woman beside him covers her own surprise so fast Dean only has a second to register her cropped brown hair, green eyes and squared jaw before there’s a gun in his face.

“Stay back,” she snarls and the way she positions herself in front of Cas would be endearing if it weren’t Dean’s angel. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” Dean asks, incredulous. “Who are you?” His eyes snap over her head to Cas, who is studying Dean, his eyebrows a dark line of concern across his forehead. “Cas, who is this chick? Where’s Sam? “

“That’s it,” she snaps, cocking her gun to emphasize her words. “Tell me who you are and how you know Sam or I swear to God, I’m blowing you away.”

It’s this threat that’s makes Dean realize this situation is something other than Cas hiding a girlfriend from him. He recognizes that look in her eyes. That insane protective glint shining in eyes that suddenly look a lot more familiar than he realized. Cas having a secret lover is one thing. But there’s no way Dean wouldn’t know someone this overtly defensive of his own brother.

Dean steps back and holds up his hands a little, needing the distance to look at the woman and really see her. She is exceptionally tall for a girl, maybe only an inch or two shorter than him. Her body is lean and hard, but with enough curves to be considered feminine. Not Dean’s type, not with the short hair and flat chest, but she’s attractive in an athletic kinda way.

“No, DeAnna,” Cas suddenly pipes up, laying a hand on the girl’s arm. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asks just as Dean says, “DeAnna?”

“I recognize him,” Castiel says with faint disbelief. “There is…I sense…he’s-“

“Spit it out, Cas,” the woman and Dean say in tandem. She frowns at him, but Dean keeps his eyes on the angel and holds his breath because he’s almost positive he knows what Cas is going to say and it’s so fucked up, he can’t think straight. Especially not when he remembers the way this chick was all over Cas just before going onto a job.

“He carries my Grace,” Castiel says quickly.

Some good stories on this one. In the categories of…

• Adorkable
• Crack-tas-tic
• Alternate Realities
• Where’s my happy ending, damn it?
• BAMF!Castiel
• Sweetness
• Team Free Will
• Hurt & Comfort
• Apocalypse: CANCELED
• Fallen!Castiel
• BAMF!Dean

Have Fun!

This is an unbiased list of all the AU stories that swing_set13 could find to date. AU stories listed here come from Livejournal, Dreamwidth Studios,Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, etc.

Enjoy.

This is an unbiased list of all the AU stories that swing_set13 could find to date. AU stories listed here come from Livejournal, Dreamwidth Studios,Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, etc.

Enjoy.

This is an unbiased list of all the AU stories that swing_set13 could find to date. AU stories listed here come from Livejournal, Dreamwidth Studios,Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, etc.

Enjoy.

This is an unbiased list of all the AU stories that swing_set13 could find to date. AU stories listed here come from Livejournal, Dreamwidth Studios,Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, etc.

Enjoy.

This is an unbiased list of all the AU stories that swing_set13 could find to date. AU stories listed here come from Livejournal, Dreamwidth Studios,Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, etc.

Enjoy.

This is an unbiased list of all the AU stories that swing_set13 could find to date. AU stories listed here come from Livejournal, Dreamwidth Studios,Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, etc.

Enjoy.

This is an unbiased list of all the AU stories that swing_set13 could find to date. AU stories listed here come from Livejournal, Dreamwidth Studios,Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, etc.

Enjoy.